


Not Quite Burning The Midnight Oil

by dragonbutts (Wayward_Dragon)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward Cullen Rutherford, BDSM, Light Bondage, Mage Inquisitor (Dragon Age), No Sex, Other, POV Second Person, Praise Kink, Self-Insert, Sub Cullen Rutherford, Wax Play, gender ambiguous reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:48:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25635328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wayward_Dragon/pseuds/dragonbutts
Summary: In which Cullen asks the Inquisitor for a bit of a favor, and the Inquisitor happily indulges.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Reader, Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 1
Kudos: 40
Collections: Season of Kink





	Not Quite Burning The Midnight Oil

**Author's Note:**

> Should I have made this as long as I did? No.  
> Did I anyway? **Oh yes.**  
>  Sometimes you just write a very self indulgent and very horny self insert fic for a kink bingo, yeah?
> 
> Insert whatever inquisitor you want here, MGiT/MPiT-friendly as well.
> 
> Me, googling candles in the middle ages and then at what temperature tallow melts for accuracy at 9 pm: .

You are unhurried as you make your way to Cullen’s office, supplies in your bag. You had arranged it with him well enough- no one was going to bother the two of you bar Corypheus showing up on Skyhold’s doorstep.

You really hope that won’t happen because well…

You’ve been rather looking forward to this little thing Cullen had asked for.

You knock on his door and stroll in when he answers.

“Still up for it?” You ask.

He takes a visible breath, steels himself and nods, “Yes.”

You smile and drop your bag on a empty chair.

You gesture him over, “Lets get that armor off you.”

He starts with taking off his gloves, and stills a little as you undo one of the straps of his chestplate. 

Its silent work- entrancing even. You can hear his breath and yours in the quiet as you work him down to his undershirts.

He pulls off his shirt and puts it on the pile while you snag your supplies out of the bag.

You take care not to stare too much, but he is rather pleasant to look at. You and him leave most everything below the waist.

Cullen rubs the back of his neck and awkwardly shifts towards the desk.

You speak up, “Remember your watchword?”

He makes an agreeing noise as you set everything but a short coil of rope to the side.

It had been a couple days since you set this up and this _is_ a first session, so you wern’t sure.

He visibly swallows as you unwind it.

“Hands?”

Cullen holds them out at your request. They are very nice hands.

You start looping and tying the rope until it was nice and secure- perhaps taking a little longer than necessary in order to keep touching them.

“Would you like to be on your knees or fully over the desk?”

His hands twitch in yours and it takes a moment before he replies, “Over the desk.”

He hastens to explain, “My knees will not enjoy the floor here, so-”

He pauses and you swiftly cut in, “Just fine, dear. You don’t need a reason.”

You call everyone dear and honey and other little pet names, but hes always had _such_ a nice little reaction to it, so you use them for him more than the others.

You left a little loop between his hands to affix to the front of the desk, as it had a nice little hooked place that would hold so long as he didn’t put all his strength behind it.

You had checked earlier when you arranged this.

Letting his hands drop, you stroll around to the other side of the desk.

You put your hands on his shoulders and gently shove. Cullen goes along with it well enough, you wouldn’t have moved him if he didn’t.

The way his breathing stills as you lean over him and pull the loop into place is _exquisite_. Here is a (former) templar, keeled over and so _very_ pretty for you- who essentially _begged you to_ -

Hm.

Taking the little bottle of scented oil, you pour it over your hands and begin rubbing it into his skin. Its a wonderful little noise he makes when you knead at his tense muscles. Echoes _alllll the way_ down your spine. _Delicious_.

Bit by bit he ends up with most of his weight on his desk, posture loose and relaxed.

That seems about right for prep.

You cap the oil and wipe your hands off on a rag, bringing him back to the present.

You begin speaking, velvet over steel, “Ready to begin your punishment?”

Its not really a punishment and you both know it.

He says yes so _very_ softly for you, and you smile.

Picking up the cup and some of scrap candle wax you brought, you snap your fingers to conjure flame and heat it.

It doesn’t take long.

You are aware of his gaze on you as you run the little flame over the bottom and carefully don’t acknowledge it.

He’s come a long way in his ability to be around magic without hitting fight-or-flight, in no small part from your efforts in acclimatizing him to little casual sparks of it like this.

When its all liquidy and you’ve stirred it into a consistent heat, you dismiss the flame.

You give it a test touch to be sure its acceptable, and proceed.

“Lets start with just this cup, shall we?” You purr- finally looking up from your task.

Its not really a question, but you like to talk.

You place one hand firmly on his shoulder and gently start the first few test drips.

He twitches under your hands and exhales roughly.

“Breathe honey,” you say like you aren’t positive he knows how to handle pain. Its the principle of the thing.

You drip a generous portion this time and watch.

Its delightful, _entrancing_ even, to see how he gasps and twitches and grits his teeth- trying so hard to be nonreactive and quiet.

Good thing for you Skyhold has automatic soundproofing in properly closed rooms so you can say, “Be as loud as you want honey, no one is going to hear you but me.”

He makes a choked little noise and you give another generous drizzle of wax, decorating another swath of skin.

It takes another pour before he squirms and tugs on his restraints a little, its _gorgeous_ and you tell him so.

That more than anything makes him flush and hiss out a little curse. And boy does that blush show _all over_ him. You give him another round for it- pressing yourself flush against his rear. Its less to hold him still and more because you are very short compared to him and it makes it easier to maintain control of the wax flow.

Also because of horny reasons. Can’t forget those.

“Maker-” He chokes out.

“That’s it, honey,” you purr, “You’re halfway done with the pot.”

This wax is just the standard kind, but you wonder how he’d look decorated in fancy dyed candles- spattered red and black and _shaking_ under you.

You drip in a strip down his spine and he _finally_ breaks his grit-teeth silence. 

Its _glorious_.

His knees buckle as he cries out, shaking.

“Good Boy,” you coo and add some more, “You’re doing _so well_ for me.”

His whole weight is resting on the desk now, it gives a little creak of protest when you add some of yours but it holds. Good.

He moans at the praise and you are pretty sure that's not a pain noise, but its not like you aren’t _deeply_ enjoying this either.

You wonder how loud you can get him, and if a few more sessions of this might improve it.

He makes another gorgeous little noise as one drip runs down the side of his ribs and exhales sharply when you make sure it happens again.

With the way his legs flex and shake you wonder if tying those down next time as well might help. That's less he needs to think about being careful with you, and it would look _ever_ so pretty.

You give him another good long set of drips, again and again- he tugs pretty hard on the bindings when he jerks at the heat this time, but it holds.

Oh, how you love a reactive boy.

As you drip the last of the wax across his shoulders he makes such a pretty, loud, sound.

Praise falls off your lips for it without much thought, “You did _so well_ for me, Honey! Do you need another round?”

Cullen makes such a wrecked noise for you before he finds his words, “ _Please,_ ” he says raggedly.

Well, you do love it when a man begs.

You grab the rest of the wax and heat it in his line of sight. It isn’t long before its ready again.

Getting him back into that shaking, pliant state where he forgets his shame for a moment takes less time than before.

Only a few rounds and Cullen is so very out of it again. You’ve narrowed his world to just hands and heat and the rope and you, and you’ll guide him through it gladly- for it is your responsibility and joy to take care of your submissive.

And he is _yours_ , you earned his loyalty against all odds and won it from the Chantry and won it from the Templars, and you take good care of people that are _yours_.

And right now, taking care of Cullen means giving him the sensory experience that will make his brain quiet. Means saying soft, gentle things even as you burn him. Means making him howl till he's hoarse while he _writhes_ against his bindings.

You wonder if he might like to try a riding crop some time in the future. If this is going to be a thing, there's plenty of things you’d like to try. You are quite sure you can procure a suitable one.

“Halfway through, honey,” you say as you card a hand through his mussed hair.

He just looks _gorgeous_ like this, all put on display in the dim light. The green glow from the Mark tints the room and really makes the aesthetic. You’ve always liked the color green.

Cullen tilts his head into the touch and makes such a pleasant noise. Oh you can’t _not_ oblige that!

You keep stroking his hair as you give him more.

He makes this half-sob kind of noise and you keep talking, “That’s it-” You add a little more, “ _Good Boy_.”

The low, gorgeous noise he makes is not doing favors for your smallclothes. You give him another go in return.

It really cannot be understated how gorgeous he looks all flushed and bent over for you and covered in glistening wax and _shaking_ \- how gorgeous he _sounds_ like this.

How decadent it is to run your hands through his hair and mess it all up and tell him what a _good, good boy_ he’s being for you.

The next two sets of drips have him in much the same state, which you savor every second of.

Checking the level of the wax you note out loud, “Almost done, honey.” 

You don’t wait for a response, which he's probably unable to give as out of it as he is, you just give him more, taking it nice and slow.

One drip after the other, on any bare skin you can find. You wont give him any pauses till you’re out.

He strains at his bindings again, trembling, panting, making such pretty little noises for you that are increasing in volume as you don’t stop.

By the time you’re tipping the pot upside-down, he's loud enough if there wasn’t a soundproofing enchantment, you’d have had people come running.

As you add the last stray drops, you step back and take a second to admire your work.

It is very good work, if you do say so yourself.

You then set the pot down and start talking, “I think that should be enough for today, dear.”

You trot around to the other side of the desk and unhook the rope. He makes such a cute little muzzy noise, like a cat that just got woken up and blinks hazily at you. You methodically untie the rope from his hands and rub at the light marks it left.

“You good, honey?”

He seems to have gotten enough sense back by now to answer with an affirmative little noise.

You put the rope to the side and walk back around tot he other side again, talking as you go, “Let me get that wax back off you.”

You hum a bit as you work, dropping all the wax in a neat little pile. His skin is still a little red underneath, but not tender.

“You want me to rub some elfroot lotion on any of this or your wrists,” You ask.

He finally gathers his words, “No, I'm good.”

You make an acknowledgement noise and remove the last of the wax. Its nowhere near bad enough for you to insist on it or anything.

It’s time for the post-scene check in, “So how are you feeling? How was it?”

“Good,” he says kind of awkwardly, “I'm- it was, very good.”

His voice is kind of hoarse, so you ask if he wants some water, which you also come prepared with.

You both don’t acknowledge how _really_ horny that whole scene was, or how Cullen is not-so-subtly adjusting his pants as you retrieve the waterskin and little cup you brought.

He accepts your water with a thank-you noise and promptly half chokes on it when you ask if he like you to do something like this again sometime.

You wait till he’s done.

After he's done coughing, he replies in a slightly more hoarse voice, “I- If you’re offering-”

“I am,” you cut in cheerfully.

“Then yes,” he says, “T-that was- Yes. That would be. Good.”

You smile and start winding up the rope, “Then what would you like more or less of next session?”

He makes a sound like he doesn’t quite know, so you make a suggestion, “I could procure a riding crop, if you’re up for that.”

The strangled little noise he makes says he very much is.

 _Yes_ , you think, _this is going to be a wonderful arrangement_.


End file.
